All But A Memory
by Live Fire
Summary: All she had was the memories of him. But she still had her sister. And she was never leaving.


_**Pairing 7/325: LucyMollyii**_

* * *

**All But A Memory**

"Do you ever stop reading?" Molly asked as she sat down next to her sister and handed her a mug of hot chocolate. Lucy shrugged, accepting the warm beverage and wrapping her hands around it to keep warm. Molly smiled at her and put an arm around her little sister's shoulders. "Every time I've seen you since Christmas you've had your nose in some kind of literature."

"I like reading," Lucy said quietly, putting the book she had been reading down beside her. Molly picked it up immediately and looked at the cover.

"The Catcher in the Rye," she said. "Either Mum has been rubbing off on you or you've raided her books' chest. I'm not sure why she still keeps all the books that she read as a kid. I mean they're all Muggle books, no magic at all. Don't you get bored?"

Lucy shook her head. "Sometimes it's nice to read about someone other than your own people. Muggles are fascinating and the way they get around doing things without magic you wouldn't believe!"

Molly laughed. "Well mum seemed to manage fine until Hogwarts sent her a letter when she was eleven."

Lucy smiled. "Yeah I guess." She looked down into her mug and took a sip from it and recoiled as the hot liquid burned her tongue.

"I brought you this," Molly said, putting that day's issue of The Daily Prophet on Lucy's lap. "You haven't devoured it yet. I think this is a new record for the longest time Lucy's been able to keep herself away from the paper."

Lucy let out a soft giggle as she pushed her older sister playfully. "I'm just interested to know what's going on in the world." She glanced at the front page of the paper and stopped to read the headline:

Ministry Security Questioned after Muggle Teen breaks in.

In the early hours of October 2nd 2024, muggle teenager Joseph Paige took the phone-box elevator down from street level into the atrium of the ministry of magic. Paige was found three hours after he had made his way inside…

"Lucy," Molly said again, touching Lucy's shoulder.

"What?" Lucy asked, "I'm reading."

"You can't keep doing this," Molly said, looking at her sadly.

Lucy's breath hitched in her throat. "Can't keep doing what?" she asked carefully.

"You need to talk to someone, Luce. You can't keep bottling up your feelings and escaping into someone else's life through a book; you need to face the situation."

Lucy took a deep breath and pretended to focus on the article she had been reading. "There's no situation to face," she said, trying to block out the fact that Molly was sitting beside her.

"Lucy you have to stop doing this. Ignoring the fact that he's dead won't change it."

Lucy tried to take more calming breaths, hoping that the images that had just sprouted up from her memory bank and were lingering behind her eyelids would just disappear. But Molly was still talking, still blabbering on about the fact that Lucy needed to get over it and she snapped. "But it'll stop me from suffering!" she all but yelled. "It won't change anything Moll, but it'll stop me from having to think about the fact that he died on my hand every day. I dream about him every night, I dream about his face, his eyes, his hair, the way that he took my breath away and now it's all gone and it's my fault!"

Molly put a hand on Lucy's arm as Lucy struggled to retain her tears. "You can cry, it's okay, Luce."

"Don't you dare tell me that it's okay, Molly; don't you bloody dare, because it isn't and it never will be! He's dead!"

"I know," Molly said simply, "I know that, Lucy, but I don't know anything else, please talk to me, tell me about what happened that night. You never know, it might help you to get over it."

Lucy looked at Molly with angry tears in her eyes. "I will never ever be over it."

In a flurry of rage and confusion, she stood up, knocking over the mug of hot chocolate onto the rug and ran from the room, holding back tears until she reached the bathroom.

She turned the knob on the door, but it was locked. Someone was in there.

"Yes?" a voice called from the other side. It was her father's.

Lucy didn't respond. She ran from the hall, making her way to the landing. Molly was calling after her, chasing her, begging her to come back.

"Luce!" she called, "Stop! I know that it's hard but please just talk to me."

Lucy ignored her, running up the next flight of stairs towards her bedroom, which, unfortunately, she shared with Molly.

"Just leave me alone!" she cried as she slammed the door behind her and pulled her desk in front of it to stop Molly from entering.

"Oi!" Molly yelled as she slammed her weight against the door, "This is my bedroom too, Lucy, let me in!"

"No!"

"What's going on?" The girls' father was running up the stairs two at a time. He must have heard them yelling, because he looked worried, glancing between Molly and the door. "Where's Lucy?"

"In there," Molly said, jabbing a finger at the door. "She won't come out."

Virtually pushing his eldest daughter out of the way, Percy banged on the bedroom door, worried. "Lucy, let me in!"

There came no reply.

Percy rolled his eyes at Molly and pointed his wand at the door, opening it instantaneously. "Can you teach me that?" Molly muttered, annoyance at being locked out of her own room still evident on her face.

What the pair of them discovered when the door swung open was Lucy with her head buried under a pillow. Her body was trembling uncontrollably as she sobbed to herself.

Molly and Percy hurried into the room, each going to a side of her.

"Luce?" Molly asked gently. "Lucy... are you alright?"

Lucy didn't reply. She just buried her head deeper into the pillow, determined not to acknowledge her father and sister. Couldn't they tell that she wanted to be alone?

Molly and Percy glanced at each other knowingly. They didn't need to speak in order to convey to each other what they thought was wrong with the youngest member of their family. They knew what had triggered this sudden onslaught of tears and misery. The loss of Lysander had shaken everyone up - but Lucy had suffered the most.

"Lucy... talk to us, please," her father begged, resting an arm on her trembling back.

Through her tears, Lucy shook her head. "No."

"Look, Luce," Molly said, sitting down beside her sister and stroking her strawberry blonde hair, "I know that it's hard to deal with and the funeral was tough for you, but pretending that he didn't exist won't help you find any sort of closure. It won't stop you from feeling like shit every time someone mentions him."

Lucy sat up, pushing her hair out of her face and wiping her eyes.

"Just leave me alone," she said, her voice weak. "Please?"

Molly opened her mouth to respond, but Percy put a hand on her shoulder, silencing her immediately. "Don't, Molly. I know you want to help her, but she'll talk to you when she's ready."

Molly looked disgruntled, but allowed herself to be guided out of the room by her father anyway, shutting the door behind them.

When they'd gone, Lucy watched the empty space they'd just been, and sighed. She couldn't talk about it. Not now, not ever. She just wanted him here, telling her that everything was going to be fine and kissing the top of her head when she started to sob. She missed him so much that it hurt, and just thinking about his broken body lying in that hospital bed, unable to move... speak... it hurt too much to even think about. He was young - too young - to die like that; but they'd only discovered the cancer when it was too late. There was no treatment - not even with magic.

At least he hadn't suffered for too long. It had been quick.

Molly was yelling at their father somewhere down below. Their voices were muffled, but she could have guessed what the topic was about. They only talked about one thing these days - Lucy.

Lucy grabbed her pillow and pressed it over her head, determined to block out the yelling below but it was no use, the noise was directly below her . With a sob of frustration, Lucy snatched her coat up from the end of her bed and threw it around her shoulders, making her way towards her bedroom window.

She was well practised at getting out of the house this way by now. She'd been doing it for years, ever since her parents started fighting with each other. She would sneak out of the window and slide down the drain pipe, running to Lysander's house not too far from there.

Her parents never knew she was gone. Molly wouldn't tell them. They didn't even know she had a boyfriend until he was dying in the hospital bed, her tears spilling over his weak body.

She slid expertly down the drain pipe, her bare legs catching on the vines that had grown there since she'd last used this escape route four months previously.

The moment her feet hit the ground she started to run. She ran up the hill beside her house and down into the gully where she would meet Lysander every night when they first started dating.

It was cold and lonely now there, though. There were no warm arms to wrap around her, no lips against hers to make her feel wanted.

It was just Lucy there. Lucy standing all alone.

She shivered as the breeze picked up, but she didn't dare turn back. No, she couldn't. Her parents and sister would want her to talk, want her to see someone. They'd demand she get help.

But she didn't need help, she just needed Lysander.

He was buried nearby, and she hadn't been to his grave since the day of his funeral, when she'd had to watch his coffin be lowered into the ground. She'd never since so much despair before. Normally, his mother and father saw the positive to every negative; but it seemed that that day was an exception. Even they couldn't manage a smile.

She walked quickly, her heart pounding against her chest as she drew nearer to the gravesite. It was on the outskirts of his family's property - he'd forever be part of it... part of them.

There was a light in the distance, indicating at least someone was awake still. Perhaps it was Lorcan. He hadn't coped with his brother's death at all - probably worse than Lucy had.

But she wasn't here to see Lorcan this time. She was here for Lysander - fun, loving, happy, kind, good-looking Lysander.

The tombstone had a wreath only a day old resting by his name

Lysander Xenophylius Scamander

Beloved son and brother

Rest In Peace

A tear trickled down Lucy's cheek as her fingers traced his engraved name. It was only memories she had left now. Memories of all the times in Hogwarts, all the nights alone together; all the kisses, the iloveyou's, the laughter.

All but a memory.

She didn't know how long she'd been standing there when she felt another presence beside her.

Luna, she thought. Luna had come to see her son.

But it wasn't, and when she turned her head to her right, she wasn't sure if she felt relief, or resentment.

Perhaps both.

"Molly..."

"I'm not here to bring you home," she said. "I'm just here to comfort you." She put an arm across Lucy's shoulder, drawing her close.

"I can't believe he's gone," Lucy said. "Three months..."

"The world is an emptier place without his smile to make everything better," Molly agreed.

"I loved him."

"I know. And he loved you, too. So much."

"Will you stay with me?"

"For as long as you need me."

Smiling at her sister, for once grateful to have her interfering, Lucy sat down on the grass directly opposite the tombstone. It was prickly and uncomfortable, but she didn't care. She just wanted to be close to him again.

The sun had well and truly set now, and both girls were shivering in the cool spring air. The held each other, not saying anything... not needing to.

"Just let me know when you want to go," Molly whispered, pressing her lips to Lucy's hair.

Lucy nodded. "A few more minutes," she said.

A few more minutes turned into a few more hours. It wasn't until their bodies were stiff from the cold that they moved.

"Dad will have a nice, warm fire going," Molly promised.

Lucy smiled, holding onto her sister's hand tightly. "Thanks," she said.

"Don't thank me," Molly answered. "Being here is my sisterly duty... and I love you. I want to help."

"I couldn't have asked for a better sister."

"No, I'm the best they've got."

They both laughed at that, and despite their bodies numb from the cold, they no longer felt it.

They had done what needed to be done. Now, hopefully, they could move on.


End file.
